Little Shop of
by ShazzyZhang
Summary: The group had stumbled upon a blessing in disguise on a routine raid. Food! Enough to feed the group for a month! But there was something a little bit... off about what they'd brought back. T for suggestive language and mature semi-sexual situations. CRACK. One shot. Absolute ridiculousness. I apologize in advance.


_AN: F*^& me. This is from my editor, Wolfbane. She is an evil f*&#^&ing muse and I hate her, but love her at the same time. She is DEFINITELY my Insanity Wolf. To be honest? This was brought on by a Zombie Apocalypse survival conversation. And "Dildo Nunchucks" is the name of my next band. Just sayin'._

_Um... enjoy?_

_-Shazzy_

**-Little Shop of...-**

Rick pulled Lori and Carol aside from the rest of the group as they rummaged through the spoils of the most recent raid that Rick had led on the nearby town. Rick fidgeted uncomfortably, very much unlike him, as the women approached.

Something wasn't quite right.

"You wanted to tell us something?" Carol drawled quietly, noticing the discomfort between Rick and Lori.

"Yeah, I figure since you two do most of the cookin' you ought know what's happened." Rick replied quickly.

"Is something wrong?" Lori asked. "Is there not enough..."

"No! No..." Rick replied slowly. "It's uh... a little more unusual than that."

"Well we aren't gettin' any younger." Carol pointed out. "And no one's gettin' fed this way. So you might as well tell us what's what."

Rick nodded. "I have good news and I have bad news." He began slowly.

"Start with the good, it makes it easier to take." Carol said.

Rick choked back a laugh, and Lori and Carol exchanged confused, and worried, looks.

"Okay..." Rick said slowly, struggling to find the words to explain the most unique situation they had found themselves in. "The good news is that we found a supply of uh... like... prepackaged macaroni and cheese that isn't spoiled and is likely more than enough to feed the group twice a day for a month."

"It's a miracle." Lori said.

"Just wait." Carol replied, smiling. "What's the bad news?"

Rick opened his mouth once, closed it again, changing his mind. "It's just... the pasta itself..."

Carol and Lori exchanged worried glances as Rick told them what was wrong with the pasta.

Dinner that night was mildly uncomfortable. Everyone sat around staring at the bowls presented to them. Hershel sat next to his daughters, Glenn sat next to Maggie. T-Dog had sat next to Glenn. Carol and Daryl had taken up their vigil on the far side, and Carl sat between Rick and Lori.

"What kind of shop, exactly, did you end up raiding to find this um... most interesting pasta?" Hershel asked, arching an eyebrow in Rick's direction.

Daryl snorted, trying very hard not to laugh and he refused to look at anyone else.

"There were walkers." Rick explained slowly. "We ducked into the first store we could that looked relatively safe. It just so happened that it was an _adult store_..."

"Look," Daryl chimed in, as looks of sheer horror and amusement passed across the faces surrounding them, "at least it's food, right? You ain't gonna starve to death, so why get so concerned with what it _looks_ like?"

The pasta had been found in the back room of an adult store among the other, more explicit things packed into the store room. Pasta. Boxes of it. Crates of it. More than enough to feed the group for a month.

It was obviously a party favour of some kind. Probably a joke gift for bachelorette parties or women who had just gone through a break up.

Penis shaped pasta in a "creamy sauce" was what the boxes advertised.

The discovery had been cause for argument between the men, on principle.

Now, they were sitting around, with bowls of dicks for dinner.

The irony was not lost on them.

Hershel was offended, he couldn't help it. It was demeaning and morbid in every sense of the word. He sat staring sullenly into his bowl, unsure if he could bring himself to eat.

Beth and Maggie were scandalized, though it was clear that they Greene ladies were more amused by the whole thing than anything else.

No one was eating. Everyone was mortified by the offering.

Daryl leaned forward, inclining his head towards Glenn. "Hey, Glenn?" He drawled.

Glenn looked up from his potential meal, a look of worry on his face. "Yeah, Daryl?" He asked weakly.

"Eat a buncha dicks." Daryl teased with a smirk.

Glenn grinned and shook his head in return, and flipped Daryl off.

T-Dog snorted a laugh. "You know what's messed up about this?" He asked, nudging Glenn with his elbow. "We're in a damn prison. This is nine kinds of insane."

Glenn turned to stare intently at T-Dog. "At least these'll be going in your mouth."

"Voluntarily." Daryl chimed in, earning himself a laugh from T-Dog and a slap on his arm from Carol.

"It's pretty good." Carl said, talking with his mouth full.

"This is all kinds of wrong." Lori muttered, burying her face in her hands as she watched in abject horror as Carl innocently ate his macaroni and cheese.

"Hey Daryl?" Glenn prodded. "Why aren't you eating? If it's not such a big deal?"

Daryl knew the statement was a challenge. He stared at Glenn, determined not to back down and he quickly, but deliberately, ate the whole bowl of pasta, without ever breaking eye contact with Glenn. He set his bowl on the floor, a look of smug triumph on his face.

"Daryl, darlin'?" Carol asked quietly. "You've uh... got um..." She hesitated. Instead, she simply reached up and wiped a small speck of white sauce from the corner of Daryl's mouth.

A shocked moment of silence passed over the group at the innocent gesture. Soon, though, the first traces of realization at what had just happened passed through the consciousness of the group.

"I hate you all." Daryl said, standing and storming out as peals of laughter washed through the group.

Maybe, eating a bowl of dicks wasn't such a bad thing after all.


End file.
